


Letters to You

by ABrighterDarkness



Series: OYL Bingo [16]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Captain America: The Winter Soldier, First Meetings, Letters, M/M, Pen Pals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24040063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABrighterDarkness/pseuds/ABrighterDarkness
Summary: It was probably unfair of Steve to cling so tightly to the correspondence with a man that he hadn’t even properly met.  But it was, really, the one thing that Steve had in this new world that was just his.  It didn’t belong to SHIELD or the Army or the Avengers.  Not the way every other thing, his person included, was. So maybe his excitement was understandable.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Series: OYL Bingo [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567447
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40
Collections: On Your Left - SamSteve Bingo





	Letters to You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for On Your Left bingo square - Pen Pal AU
> 
> I've played a little bit with the canon timeline here but I think it worked out well for it :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Maybe it was paranoia--probably--but as Steve wandered down the sidewalk, hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket, he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder. And then up to scan the many rooftops around him. He wasn’t doing anything  _ wrong, _ exactly, but he still had a feeling that SHIELD wouldn’t particularly approve. Even if it had, indirectly at least, been their idea to begin with.

Though, he suspected when they encouraged him to acclimate into this new century that he unwittingly found himself living in, this might not have been what they had in mind. Not that he was going to apologize.

The internet had proven to be a fascinating, if undoubtedly overwhelming, resource of the future. Something he couldn’t have even begun to imagine the likes of growing up. Shortly after the Battle of New York, he had let himself explore it, just a little bit. A couple of hours in he had somehow managed to stumble across a page for what they called ‘penpals’ these days. It was hosted, it seemed, entirely by veterans which he found himself appreciating despite his reluctance. He still wasn’t exactly sure how he managed to find the page and wasn’t entirely sure he could find it through the same exact process as he had the first time.

But it had been a relief to find that some people still seemed to prefer, or at least enjoyed, handwritten letters. Steve had hesitated only a few, brief moments before signing up. It wasn’t long before he had a first name and address to send actual letters to. Something so, so simple seemed to soothe something in him that had been wound so tightly ever since waking in that horrible room at SHIELD.

Of course, he had to keep his letters somewhat vague. He was sure that Sam was a good guy. His letters seemed to confirm that but Steve couldn’t say that he was ready for the inevitable change in the way he was treated when his actual identity was realized. Still, it was nice to have somewhere to send some of the rapidly growing collection of postcards he picked up on his solo-trip around the country.

Sam was...Sam was nice. His letters were well-articulated while still somehow managing to shovel back Steve’s banter once the exchange grew more comfortable. Steve noticed quickly that they both seemed to shy away from talking about their respective military experiences, going only so far as to acknowledge that it was there.

It was probably unfair of Steve to cling so tightly to the correspondence with a man that he hadn’t even properly met. But it was, really, the  _ one thing _ that Steve had in this new world that was just his. It didn’t belong to SHIELD or the Army or the Avengers. Not the way every other thing, his person included, was. So maybe his excitement was understandable. 

Maybe that’s why SHIELD had yet to intervene and stop him. He wasn’t naive enough to think that they didn’t  _ know, _ somehow, some way. But they hadn’t tried to stop it. Instead, Sam’s letters always seemed to find him, regardless of where his aimless travels took him.

And then he got the call that his trip needed to come to an end. It was time for him to get back to the depressing and terrifying reality of what his life was now.  _ Shake it off, Soldier,  _ he thought glumly. 

It was only moments later when Hill’s words fully registered. DC. He was being reassigned from New York to Washington D.C. That was where Sam lived.

Before he packed what little belongings he had that night in preparation to head back east, Steve grabbed the spiral notebook he had picked up at the beginning of the trip. It was nearly empty now, the majority of its pages torn free and stuffed into carefully addressed envelopes and sent across the country. He tapped his pen thoughtfully against the page before settling more comfortably on the bed of the cheap motel he had rented for the night.

_ Sam, _

_ I just got word that my sightseeing is being called to an end. I can’t say that I’m looking forward to it but I knew that it was coming so I guess that I can’t be too disappointed. I was given verbal orders that I am being reassigned from New York to DC once I get back. I’ll make sure to forward an address once I’m settled. _

Steve paused and eyed the backpack sitting on the floor by the door. He had stuffed the SHIELD issued phone back into the same pocket it had resided in the majority of his travels. It wasn’t like he typically had anyone to call or-or text? He thought that was the term used. But...maybe.

He glanced down to the letter he was painstakingly writing. Without allowing himself to hesitate, he quickly wrote down his phone number and an invitation to use that method of communication. Steve desperately wanted the letters to continue but, he thought, would it be so bad to have something that was  _ his _ that didn’t rely on the mail? He dropped the letter into one of the blue mailboxes on his way out of town that next morning.

Just a few days later, his phone made an unfamiliar chirping sound. Steve frowned in confusion as he dug it out of his bag, only for the frown to be replaced almost immediately by a bolt of almost excitement when he read the new message. From Sam. 

He could admit that he mourned the loss of receiving regular letters through the mail. But Steve had to also admit that it was nice to be able to talk to someone in near real time as just Steve and not Captain America, aka Steve Rogers. Even if the messages hadn’t evolved into an actual voice conversation.

The text messages had, eventually, turned out an invitation to meet face to face. Steve had considered that message for a long, long time before responding. He was wary. Things would inevitably change when they met. He would no longer be  _ just  _ Steve. It was highly unlikely that he would be able to avoid recognition and he knew it. 

But this was Sam.

He eventually responded, much later than was probably considered polite, with an affirmative. Which was how he found himself wandering down the sidewalk in Washington DC, to what Sam had assured him was a decent hole-in-the-wall sports bar. He knew that SHIELD hadn’t exactly discouraged his correspondence with the man, but he couldn’t help but think that they might take exception to actually meeting him.

Steve forcefully shoved that worry aside as he approached the agreed upon location. Taking a steadying breath, he pulled the door open and stepped back to hold it open for a couple who were approaching from the opposite direction. He nodded and smiled politely at their thanks and entered after them, eyes immediately scanning the open room.

It looked about as he had expected. Open yet slightly darkened inside. More televisions than Steve thought any one location truly needed with something different on each one. He carefully worked around tables and people to approach the far end of the bar where Sam had messaged him that he would be sitting only to freeze when he drew even.

“No shit,” Sam said, the same look of surprise on his face that Steve knew his own would be sporting. “Man, you didn’t say a damned thing.”

Because of course his long term penpal ‘Sam’ was somehow the same Sam that he lapped repeatedly at the National Mall just a few short days ago. Steve grinned and shrugged, “Neither did you.”

“Well yeah,” Sam said, returning the grin. “Not like I thought nice-handwriting Steve was run-like-the-wind Steve.”

Steve laughed and settled onto the stool next to Sam, his previous nerves evaporating immediately. It made sense, he supposed. He had felt the same ease in the letter exchange as he had in their initial meeting. “I suppose that saves us from awkward introductions at least.”

Sam waved down the bartender and once their drinks were settled in front of them he turned his attention back to Steve. “How’d the rest of the trip go?” he asked.

“Oh, not bad,” Steve shrugged. “I couldn’t really tell you what’s changed and what hasn’t but I’m going to assume that it’s pretty much everything.”

“Yeah, probably,” Sam agreed. “What do they got you doing here in DC?”

“Paperwork, mostly,” Steve said with a miserable smile. “Training. Anything to keep me busy and supervised, I suppose.”

Conversation flowed fairly seamlessly after that with only a handful of awkward pauses. Those were usually Steve’s doing, he knew. There were only so many modern references he had been able to catch up on at that point but Sam seemed to move them along easily enough. There were a few of those instances where Sam would jolt excitedly, pulling his phone from his pocket and pulling up one video or another to provide the information needed to understand the various references.

It was fun, actually. Steve absently acknowledged that he hadn’t laughed as hard or had a more enjoyable evening in far too long. Even discounting the time in the ice that he didn’t remember. He liked Sam’s energy and wit. And, Steve could admit if only in the relative safety of his own mind, that the man’s laugh and grin were something that he could easily find himself addicted to. He liked Sam. Quite a lot actually.

The passing thought drained some of the humor he felt and replaced it with a growing sense of dread. That definitely wasn’t what he was here for. The very last thing that he wanted was to ruin the one good thing he had that was just his because he couldn’t keep his wandering thoughts and feelings from bleeding through. He quickly reigned himself back in and looked up from his drink to find Sam watching him curiously. Steve offered a smile that hopefully distracted from whatever observations Sam might possibly be making.

“What’s that look for?” Sam asked, clearly not buying Steve’s attempts. “You look like you just took a hit to the gut or something.

_ Probably because it feels like I have, _ Steve thought a little hysterically. Instead of voicing that though, he shrugged, “Just remembered a thing,” he said lamely. “A work. Thing.”

“A work thing,” Sam repeated. “Right. Okay, we’ll go with that. You need to go then?”

“What? No,” Steve rushed to say. “No, it’s fine. It’s not-not something I gotta do now. Or anything.”

Sam eyed him for a moment before nodding slowly. He glanced down at his own drink for a moment, tapping his index finger against the glass. “So. Drawing and workouts,” he said by way of changing the topic. “What else does Steve Rogers do when not, you know, saving the world from aliens?”

Steve huffed a laugh at the blatant, but appreciated, change. “That’s-that’s about it actually,” he admitted. “Try to work through my list. Sometimes.”

“This next Saturday,” Sam said abruptly. “Meet me at the mall--not to run circles around me either. Show you some of the sites.” Steve couldn’t help but notice that there was something odd about the way that he worded it and that he suddenly looked slightly less confident. 

“This Saturday, huh?” Steve repeated, taken off guard.

“Yep,” Sam returned, the previous uncertainty gone again leaving Steve to feel as though he had missed something important. “Barring some sort of world-ending global disaster, of course.”

“Barring that, of course,” Steve laughed and then considered the offer for a brief moment. The decision, surprisingly, took very little time to contemplate. If Sam wanted to spend his free time on Steve, he certainly wasn’t about to turn it down. Even though he knew that he probably should, considering his earlier revelation. “Sure. Yeah, that sounds good.”

While the entire evening, up to that point, had been great, that exchange seemed to have changed things. Just slightly but noticeably. They migrated on their respective stools to sit just slightly closer. Conversation shifted from informative but general to more personal, delving into the topics they had only ghosted over in their many, many letters. And, at some point, Steve stopped worrying about saying the wrong things. It was freeing in an unexpected way, to just have an honest conversation without tiptoeing around.

It was a few hours later when they left the bar, late enough that the late afternoon sun had long since set. Steve found himself a bit surprised at the lateness of the hour considering it hadn’t really felt like they had been talking as long as they had. It was, for the first time in a long time, a good sort of surprise.

They walked aimlessly for a bit, conversation continuing as though maybe Sam also wasn’t quite ready to drift off to separate destinations. That was a nice thought. 

“Hey Steve,” Sam said suddenly, head tipped to the side to look over. Steve met his gaze, brows arched in question. “So, listen, feel free to tell me that I’m reading this all wrong. I’d like to think that I’m not?”

“Reading what wrong?” Steve asked in confusion, feeling once again that he was missing something important.

“Thinking that maybe you’re wanting to kiss me as much as I’m itching to kiss you,” Sam said bluntly after a moment. 

Steve’s eyes widened in surprise at the statement, staring blankly at Sam as the words attempted to settle in his mind. It wasn’t Steve’s sort of luck to have something he wasn’t allowing himself to want just handed to him. It didn’t make sense as much as he wanted it to. “You want to--?” he said slowly.

“Well yeah,” Sam said with a slight grin. “I mean, only if you’re not gonna take a swing at me for it or something.”

Steve’s feet came to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk before he could realize that he had stopped walking and Sam stopped next to him, eyeing him almost warily. Steve swallowed thickly around the sudden rush of nerves before making his decision and ducking in to press his lips to Sam’s. He forced aside the sudden shot of panic, clinging to the reminder that in this new, bizarre century, impulsively kissing a man in the middle of a DC sidewalk wasn’t going to get them arrested or worse. He suddenly counted that near the top of his list of favorite things he had discovered about his apparent new home.

He could feel Sam’s slight jolt of surprise and then the tug of hands curling into the lapels of his jacket. It was a simple kiss. Nothing particularly significant about a relatively chaste press of lips on lips. Except that it was entirely significant because Steve was kissing  _ Sam. _

Sam pulled back first and reality sunk in on Steve. He could feel his face heat as he cast furtive glances at their surroundings. His mind shouted the inappropriateness of it while the rest of him seemed to buzz in a way that had nothing to do with the small amount of alcohol he had consumed. Sam laughed softly and Steve glanced back to him curiously.

He used the grip that he still held on Steve’s jacket to tug him forward again. Sam’s lips were suddenly pressed more firmly, less tentatively against his own as Sam took control this time. There was a thread of heat to it that hadn’t been present in the first kiss and Steve couldn’t help but dive after it, chasing the sharp lingering taste of the beer Sam had nursed throughout the evening. Sam was the one to break the kiss before it could get further out of hand, breathing unsteadily as he stared at Steve for a moment. Steve felt a small shiver jolt through him at the loaded intensity of that single look.

“My place or yours?” Sam asked meaningfully.

“Yours,” Steve said nearly immediately after sparing only half a thought to his SHIELD-issued and undoubtedly SHIELD-monitored apartment. Sam didn’t bat an eye at the decisiveness, he just nodded, lacing his fingers with Steve’s and tugging forward.

Steve couldn’t have guessed that signing up for a penpal of all things would have led him here. But, as he left Sam’s home the next morning after coffee--unfortunately having to forego breakfast in favor of SHIELD duties--he had to admit that it was very nearly the perfect outcome. 

He would have wondered what their date on Saturday the next time he got home, or back to his apartment anyway--it was to Director Fury lying on his couch. The next time he had been able to see or speak to Sam, he was filthy and battered with Natasha at his side showing up unexpectedly on the man’s doorstep. Maybe it should have been odd that the first thought that had come to mind when he needed a safe place to go was to go to Sam. Presumptuous, at very least but he couldn’t deny the relief when Sam opened the door further to let them in.

Relieved enough, even, to accept the mild rebuke about breakfast without a word.


End file.
